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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28979499">Memories of You</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/SoKryptic/pseuds/SoKryptic'>SoKryptic</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Dream SMP (Video Blogging RPF), Video Blogging RPF</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Angst and Feels, Betrayal, Character Death, Confrontation, Dream's Mask, Fundywastaken - freeform, Grieving, Hurt No Comfort, M/M, also sapnap is barely mentioned, i want to make the homeless Teletubby cry a little, i'm being a dream apologist here i won't lie to you, no beta we die like how technoblade doesn't, quackity karl and niki are barely there sorry guys, the girls are fightingggggg, wedding mention</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 08:41:26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,010</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28979499</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/SoKryptic/pseuds/SoKryptic</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A soft wind blew across the landscape, creating ocean-like waves in the grass and ruffling his hair, buffeting the folds of his clothes like sails. He stayed there, stock still,  knelt down on the earth, gaze unwaveringly stuck to the shoddy headstone fashioned out of two wooden planks nailed into the shape of a cross. The dirt was still mounded slightly, grass not yet daring enough to overtake it and swallow it back down below as all things eventually were. As he one day be.</p><p>-------<br/>I make the homeless teletubby cry a little</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Clay | Dream/Floris | Fundy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>94</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Memories of You</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I wrote this while listening to No Children by Mountain Goats on loop. If this is coherent i will be surprised</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>A soft wind blew across the landscape, creating ocean-like waves in the grass and ruffling his hair, buffeting the folds of his clothes like sails. He stayed there, stock still,  knelt down on the earth, gaze unwaveringly stuck to the shoddy headstone fashioned out of two wooden planks nailed into the shape of a cross. The dirt was still mounded slightly, grass not yet daring enough to overtake it and swallow it back down below as all things eventually were. As he one day be.</p><p>His hair had gotten long, now at the uncomfortable stage where it kept getting in his face regardless of the mask, shaggy and not quite even. It ticked his cheek lightly and threatened to get in his eyes. Dream sighed and let his gaze drop, extending a clenched hand full of wildflowers, laying them neatly before the headstone and allowing it to lay there on the earth tenderly, palm flat. </p><p>He remained like that for hours, the sun slowly sinking downwards towards the horizon until it painted everything it touched a shining gold, which only faded into a burning orange and then a thousand cool purples and reds heading sluggishly towards the undoubted blues and blacks of the night.  A tree branch snapped behind him, but he remained still, back to the tree line. In younger years perhaps he would have clutched at the sword he’d laid carelessly by his side, turning around weapon raised to the unseen figure. But it all felt so distant now, so far away. </p><p>“What do you want, George?” he rasped, his voice uneven and rumbling and painful, like stone grating against stone. He felt the other man clear his throat, the shuffling of his feet as he made his way over to lean against a larger tree which had dream’s jacket hung from one of the branches, flowing gently in the breeze like a flag of a lost country. There were still bloodstains on it rom when it had been used the day he had- he let his eyes slip closed and furrowed his brow, hoping that steeling himself would drive off the memories. </p><p>“You can’t keep doing this, Dream,” he said, softly. There was a pained edge to his gentle tone, lined with worry. “We’re worried sick. We haven’t seen you in days. Not since-“ he started. “I know.” Dream cut him off, moving his head to glance briefly over his shoulder. George’s glasses were off and clutched in his hand, the knuckles white. His eyes were red rimmed and a little puffy, dark irises shining with the ghosts of tears both spilt and held back. Behind the mask his top lip curled, and he turned back to the grave. “I know what I’m doing. I don’t want your pity, or your guilt” he snarled, familiar anger rising in him. He could feel the wince of the other man, not having to look to know the pleading expression painted across that face. “You… you need to move on, Dream. This isn’t right this-“ </p><p>“Don’t you dare.” He growled, finally looking at the other man properly, hand moving from the earth to sit carefully on the hilt of his sword. “Don’t you dare tell me what to do when it comes to this, George. Don’t you dare”. The mask itself was looking worse for wear these days, the white had become faded into a greyish colour, dirt and undoubtedly blood clung to it in certain areas. Even the simple noseless smiley face he’d been so known for and that had even inspired fear in previous times had faded from stark black into a less obvious greyish muddy colour. His shoulders had tensed, the gentle posture he had kept for hours broken in anger.</p><p>“You’re going to get sick, Dream, just come home-“ this time he was cut off with a harsh, pained-sounding bark of a laugh, not the usual lung-shattering wheeze he remembered. A couple more like it followed, tumbling out of tight unseen lips; ugly and full of anger and pain beyond compare. Beyond understanding. Once he’d once again stilled, he let himself keep eye contact with the man who’d once been a friend to him. Who he’d fought for, over and over out of loyalty and a quiet kind of affection. “Get out of here, Georgie. Go run home to the people who love you.” He spat before turning back, letting go of his sword.</p><p> Images of Quackity and Karl looking upon him in horror, holding onto a shaking George who clutched a hand to his steadily bleeding nose, keeping him upright and pressed close swam past his eyelids. His mask’s strap had been untied and in the rush he’d been in to throw his barriers back up he hadn’t had time to put it securely back on, so his hand remained at the bottom, pressing it in place. His breath had rattled through his heavy chest, in confused huffs, still half panicked and smothered in a distinct feeling of betrayal. And as he had looked upon the man who’d so selfishly unmasked him as he slept by the fire, he felt the numbness wash over him, the shock and disbelief he’d fooled himself with fading away until the certainty of distrust was all that remained. He’d hit him blindly in his panic when he’d woken at the uneasy feeling of being openly watched and realising the warmth of sun and the breeze was laying its hands far too easily upon his skin considering who he’d remembered he’d fallen asleep near. </p><p>That was when the shouting had begun, George confused by the blow to his face and Dream coming back into himself and realising the massive overstep of boundaries he’d fallen victim to. As he’d picked up his bag and his sword with one hand, the other still clutching the mask to his face like a lifeline and began to stumble away into the woods, completely disoriented, turning his back to the three men the last thing he’d heard were the words ‘get over yourself, Dream’ before he’d moved completely out of earshot. The current George sighed and stepped forwards, moving towards him, not giving up. He’d always been so annoyingly stubborn. “Come on Dream, just-“ </p><p>“Get over myself?” he finished for him, tone turning cold as ice. There was a stunned uneasy silence, it stretched out thickly between the two of them, painful and raw. “Isn’t that what you said last time, George? I sure hope I didn’t mishear you.” He placed his hands on his thighs, gripping them lightly, trying to regain a hold on the short leash he kept his anger on so frequently. “No, Dream, listen-“ he tried, his voice straining. “Get out of here, George.” He stopped him, eyes lifting to the horizon, watching the sun bury itself beneath the earth, the last dredges of light starting to fade away. He sat like that, simply looking until he heard the footsteps fade away, heading backwards, back into the forest. </p><p>Once he was sure he was once again alone he let his shoulders drop, slumping down sideways, laying his body down beside the grave, cold earth undoubtedly going to set a dull painful ache into his back by the next morning. He reached for the familiar chain, pulling it out of his trouser pocket, the faint rattle of what it kept following. He held them up in front of his face, keeping the chain short in his hand so not to have them too close. He carefully slipped his mask up, eyes gazing upon them unhindered. Two gold wedding bands were strung onto it. “I miss you, you know,” he said, turning his head to look, as if meeting the gaze of his lover, “more than anything”. He shifted, sitting up slightly to give himself the room to slip the chain around his neck, holding the rings in his hand and keeping them gently over his chest  before laying back down, looking up at the stars.<br/>
“You’d have told me I need a haircut by now,” he said, a sad smile curling the edge of his lips, “you’d have made fun of me for my ‘mullet’ and forced me to cut it” he let himself search the sky, looking from star to star as if that’d give him answers, give him the words to express what he needed to say, his breath beginning to fog in front of his face in the pale silvery light of the rising moon. “I promised you I’d be there for you and I wasn’t, not in time anyway. Not when it mattered” </p><p>Memories of a wedding day fluttered by. Family and friends in suits. The dress and train he’d picked out for himself carefully. Sapnap looking at him oh so fondly as he offered him his arm and walked him down the aisle. The anxiety that had fluttered in his stomach as he stood by the altar. A bubbling happiness looking across at the groom. A day that hadn’t ended how it should have. His grip tightened on the rings.<br/>
Another day scuttled to the forefront of his mind. A much darker one. They’d been trying again in secret; his lover’s family had hated him before but after the failed wedding it’d only fanned the flames. He’d been out hunting for the last ingredient for a potion he’d needed to brew when a panicked BadBoyHalo had caught up to him, he’d bent over almost in half, hands on his knees for support as he tried to catch his breath. He’d almost not believed him when he’d stuttered out a plea of help, telling him about an ongoing battle in L’Manburg. They’d headed back as fast as they could, anger bubbling inside him like a pot of water threatening to spill over on the stove. The danger those he loved were in becoming almost tangible to him already. </p><p>But they hadn’t been fast enough. The dust was beginning to clear. The heavy silence had been enough to tell him something was wrong as he pushed past grave faced people. That was when he’d seen him, laid on the floor, head propped up on a piece of rubble. Niki had been knelt by him, speaking softly. His hand had been pressed to a spot on his abdomen. The terrifying red splatted around it had been enough to make his skin crawl and his throat tighten. His axe had dropped from numb fingers, his ears deaf to the clatter as he’d become all he could see. His feet had been made of lead as he staggered forward, falling heavily to his knees. He’d been blind to Niki moving out of the way and going to stand with the others. Blind to their stares as a shaking hand reached out to rest on his lover’s cheek. His eyes had sluggishly moved to meet his face, his breathing shallow and uneven. “Dre. You’re here” he’d watched numbly as a small, weak smile had curled at those lips. He’d pushed his mask up slightly, baring his lips and jaw to onlookers. His name had tumbled from his lips, the weight of it too heavy for him to hold onto. A cold hand had laid itself on top of his. </p><p>He'd watched him fall limp before him, eyes going blind and dark. His anguished cry had rattled windows, followed by denial-fuelled begging. Like if he pleaded hard enough whatever uncaring gods that watched over them all would give him back to him. He’d stayed there as peopled pieced themselves back together, the injured being lead away. He’d sat there with him until they took his body away from him, familiar people holding him back as he screamed, not wanting him to be taken away. </p><p>Hot tears had spilled down his cheeks then, coming back again now, painting wet steaks upon his face. He pulled a shuddering breath into his hollow feeling chest, the wound of his loss once again split back open. He let himself look back over to the headstone. </p><p>“I’m sorry, Fundy”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This took me a couple days because school has been kicking my ass. It's only short because i don't have the attention span for long fics atm. Expect more angst from me in the future :)</p></blockquote></div></div>
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